The Interview
by cactusnell
Summary: A reporter interviews Sherlock Holmes for the Sunday supplement. What does he have to say about his private life? Sherlolly


Dr. Molly Hooper was lying in her bed, eyes closed, trying to wish herself back to sleep. It was Sunday morning. Too early Sunday morning, by Molly's definition, and she longed to be comfortably wrapped in her dreams once more. She had worked a double shift in the morgue/lab at St. Bart's the day before, and for the next two days sleep was her primary objective. Her eyes were still closed because if she gave in to the temptation to open them, it would be an admission that she was, indeed, awake. And that was an admission she was not yet ready to make. Unfortunately, just as she was once again drifting off, her mobile signalled an incoming call. This early on a Sunday morning it could only be one of two people. Sherlock Holmes, the unrequited love of her life, or her mother, the bane of her single existence. Glancing down at the caller ID, she quickly realized it was her mother, signalling an abrupt end to her peaceful Sunday.

"Hello, Mum." Molly said sleepily.

"Pumpkin, you should have told me! Imagine, your own mother having to find out by reading the paper…"

"Mum, what the hell are you talking about?"

"You and Sherlock Holmes, of course. How long have you been a couple? I know I nag you quite a bit about finding a boyfriend, settling down, and giving me grandchildren, but you didn't need to keep it a secret. Are you embarrassed by me, Molly? I never meant…"

Molly was now completely awake, but still couldn't understand what was going on. "Mum, where did you get the idea that Sherlock and I are a couple? Have you been seeing that astrologer again?"

"It's in the paper, Molly. The Sunday supplement. Sherlock did an interview, and talked about you. He's very non-committal, though, isn't he? Is he that, well, off-putting, in person, dear? I must say, he's very handsome, but he came off as rather a cold fish. He didn't seem like your type at all, but I know you care for him, so…"

"Mum, Sherlock and I are not, repeat, NOT, a couple. You must have misunderstood something you read. I'll get back to you later, after I've read the thing. Okay?" And with that Molly bade her mother goodbye, and grabbed her laptop to look at the interview which had caused her mother such distress. She knew that the detective had spoken to the press last week, something he rarely did. But John Watson had advised him that it would be good for business, so he had acquiesced, reluctantly.

Molly quickly found the item in question, and proceeded to read with interest. The first part covered his professional career, going into some more famous cases, though not in any great detail. Molly found herself amazed at how well Sherlock managed to control his raging ego, and accompanying arrogance. He even seemed to flirt with the reporter on occasion, which was surprising. Obviously, he felt the need for some good publicity acutely. Finally, toward the end of the article, Molly found the short discussion of his private life.

**Reporter: So, Mr. Holmes…**

**SH: Please, call me Sherlock.**

**Reporter: Sherlock, not much has been written about your private life, your romantic life, so to speak. There was some speculation about your relationship with your partner and blogger, Dr. John Watson…**

**SH: Totally unfounded, I may add. John has since happily married, and become a father, as you know.**

**Reporter: But, as you know, the current speculation surrounds your sometimes assistant, Dr. Molly Hooper, a pathologist at St. Bart's…**

**SH: Yes, Molly does sometime assist me with my cases, as John has been busy recently with family matters….**

**Reporter: But what people really want to know is, is Dr. Hooper your girlfriend?**

**SH: "Girlfriend!" I loathe the term! Given her advanced years, Molly is hardly a girl, is she? And I am hardly a "boy" anymore. The mere idea that people involved in a relationship of a sexual nature should be inclined to use such juvenile terms to describe it seems ludicrous…**

**Reporter: So you are romantically involved…  
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**SH: I said nothing of the sort…**

**Reporter: You said, and I quote, "people involved in a relationship of a sexual nature"...**

**SH: I was referring to the use of the term "girlfriend" in such a matter, not to my relationship with Dr. Hooper…**

**Reporter: Then you are involved in a relationship?**

**SH: My relationship with Dr. Hooper is a private matter, and one which I intend to keep private, in deference to Dr. Hooper's wishes, as well as my own.**

**Reporter: So, may I consider that a non-denial denial?**

**SH: You may consider it anything you wish. I will make no further comment on the matter.**

The reporter then went on to mention Sherlock's blush, (rather attractive, she thought), and his reticence to discuss his private life any further, leading her to the conclusion, which she conveyed to her readers, that something was definitely going on between Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper.

Molly closed her laptop with a heavy sigh. No wonder her mother had called. And she would probably be the first of many. She could only imagine how many unwelcome calls Sherlock would be fielding over the next few hours. But she wasn't about to let him off the hook. Knowing that, in all likelihood, the detective had made himself incommunicado, Molly gave up the idea of phoning him, and simply sent a text.

I'M ON MY WAY OVER THERE. YOU'VE GOT SOME EXPLAINING TO DO! - MOLLY

Molly dressed and made her way to Baker Street, where she was greeted by Mrs. Hudson, rather cheerfully.

"Oh, Molly, luv, you should have told me! All that time I thought Sherlock and John were an item, and there you were. I'm so happy for you both." The older woman could barely contain herself. "He needs someone, you know. So many people misunderstand him. But I know you've always cared for him…"

"Stop right there, Mrs. Hudson," Molly finally managed to get a word in. "Sherlock and I are not involved. We are not a couple! I don't care what some reporter thinks…"

"But, dear, it certainly sounded like Sherlock was saying…"

"You must learn to read more carefully, Mrs. Hudson, learning to ignore what you think you read between the lines. Not a couple! Never was!"

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry. I suppose you're here to read him the riot act, then?"

"Not really. I'm just here to enjoy his discomfort for a while. I wouldn't want to be in that reporter's shoes, though!" Molly said with a laugh before making her way upstairs.

Sherlock Holmes, world's only consulting detective, was sitting in his chair, still dressed in pajamas and dressing gown, looking into space, and studiously ignoring his mobile.

"Ah, Dr. Hooper. I suppose you're here to give me a dressing down, although why you should be angry, I really can't fathom…"

"Sherlock, half of London now believes we are involved in a hot and heavy affair…"

"I never said we were," Sherlock interrupted the pathologist.

"No, technically, you never did. But instead of simply saying 'no' when questioned, you had to launch into a diatribe about the use of the term 'girlfriend' to describe such a relationship. And you called me old!"

"Not really 'old', Molly. I simply said that you were no longer a girl. Is that what you object to? Not the fact that the reporter inferred, incorrectly, that we are involved in an affair?"

"Maybe a bit of both, you prat!"

"The age bit may be understandable, as I believe that women can be a bit more sensitive in that regard than the average male. But why should you object to being linked with me? I'm quite a catch, after all. I may be seen as a feather in your cap!"

"You really are an arrogant son of a bitch, Sherlock Holmes. I object simply because it isn't true. I have enough trouble finding interesting, eligible men with you running interference all the time, without you implying," here she noticed Sherlock glance at her threateningly, "or some reporter inferring, that we are involved, romantically speaking."

"So, to sum up, your objection lies, for the most part, in the fact that the report of our liaison is not true, correct?"

"I suppose…" Molly murmured, looking at Sherlock somewhat suspiciously as he rose from his seat, and crossed the room slowly.

"So, the next step is up to you, Dr. Hooper. Do I call the newspaper, and demand a clarification in their next edition? Or do we change the status of our relationship to match the conclusions of that rather incompetent reporter?" The detective had stopped immediately in front of her, and was now standing with one hand on her hip, while he caressed her cheek with the other, looking into her dark eyes and awaiting an answer.

"I wouldn't want to get the reporter in trouble, after all, Sherlock. She did seem rather nice. This was her first big interview, wasn't it?" Molly asked, and Sherlock could only mutter an answer, as his lips were currently busy planting slow kisses up and down her neck. But Molly couldn't really hear that answer, muffled as it was by the soft skin of her neck, and drowned out a bit by the loud moan currently emanating from her mouth, a moan which only served to draw the detective's attention to her lips, which he then proceeded to shower with attention.

When they finally were forced to come up for air, the first thing that Molly could think to say was, "You don't really think I'm old, do you Sherlock?"

"Certainly not, Molly. I realize that I can be such a bastard at times, and I'm just glad you're not old enough to know better than to love me."

"I'll never be that old, Sherlock," she replied with a small laugh. And with that said, they adjourned to the bedroom.

A few hours later, Sherlock checked his mobile for messages, only to find the expected from friends, and even family. He ignored them all, save Mycroft's, questioning the status of his current project. He decided to reply.

I WILL CONTACT YOU SOMETIME TOMORROW. AM CURRENTLY OCCUPIED - SHERLOCK

HOPEFULLY WITH DR. HOOPER - MYCROFT

AS USUAL YOUR DEDUCTIONS ARE CORRECT - SHERLOCK

WELL PLAYED, LITTLE BROTHER. CONGRATULATIONS! - MYCROFT

The Holmes brothers then returned to their respective activities, Sherlock with his newly minted "girlfriend", or whatever they would eventually work out to call themselves. "Fiancee" had a nice ring to it, he thought. And Mycroft checked his calendar one more time. Perhaps he could fit in that interview, after all. And he must make sure to mention Anthea!


End file.
